Search and Rescue
by Jessica Jay Jackson
Summary: The Uber Director sold Max and the gang to corporations around the world almost a year ago. The Flock is separated, but Nudge is determined that it doesn't stay that way. When she is sent on her first mission under the people that "own" her, she finally gets her chance to find her family.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story takes place after the majority of TFW. Because the hurricane never swept in and caught the Uber Director, the Flock was auctioned off to buyers representing multiple corporations around the world.**

**Nudge's POV**

The first day I spent at the Needle was comparable to a day spent at the School.

When I arrived at the Needle, it was snowing. I remember watching the fluffy white flakes fall as a guard took me by my arm and led me off the helicopter. The landscape was bare and white, and for a moment I thought I was back in Antarctica. The only thing interrupting the horizon was a building one story short from being a skyscraper. Its windowless, metal exterior gleamed. A guard dropped a heavy blanket over my shoulders, but I wasn't sure that my shivering was from the cold.

The gun-toting guards escorted me through four security walls and left me in a white room that reminded me too much of the labs at the School. Alone for a second, I began to plan my escape. WWMD? What would Max do?

I whipped into action. The heavy blanket was off my shoulders and shredded in record time. After a second of rummaging through the cabinets, I found chloroform and doused a strip of fabric in it. I positioned myself behind the door and waited for someone to walk through it. _They'll walk through, I'll knock them out easily. I'm stronger than they are._ I caught sight of a syringe and a vial full of a nasty looking chemical. _And if there are guns involved..._I chewed my bottom lip. Whatever this stuff is, it could kill whoever I inject with it. I didn't want to kill anybody, but I wasn't left with many options. Besides, I reasoned that a doctor would know how to fix themselves. I lunged for the needle.

"Stop." I froze. What? I did a three-sixty. In my haste to escape, I had missed the cameras. A speaker was tucked into a niche in the wall. "Asset, do you understand me?" I glared at one of the cameras. Of course I understood, I wasn't stupid. "Our files tell us that you speak English. Are you intelligent?" I began fuming.

"I'm intelligent to know how this syringe works, and I will use it on anyone who steps through that door." There was a pause. I assumed that whoever was speaking over the intercom was consulting somebody else. I took the cue to return to the door. I held the syringe at the ready.

The intercom buzzed again. "If you do that, we will clip your wings." Shocked, I began to lower the syringe. The door slid open, revealing a woman wearing a white coat, backed up by two guards.

Then I thought better of it. "You'll have to catch me first."

I thrust the syringe forward, jabbing it into the woman's arm and thrusting the chemicals into her system. She ignored me completely and ran to the cabinets, presumable to find herself an antidote. I rushed the guards, easily ducking between the two and into the hallway. I met little resistance until I rounded a corner at the end. A wall of guards halted my progress. I backpedaled and started to go the opposite way. Same thing. At least a dozen guns were trained on me. I took a step back, planning my next move. If I could jump one, I could-

I felt a pinch.

I was out before I hit the floor.

**A/N: This is the first time I've written something besides an essay for a while. The rest of my chapters will probably be longer. Please review! I value criticism! (Though I accept constructive criticism better.)**


	2. Chapter 2

My jolt awake is punctuated by a nasty encounter between my head and the ceiling of my sleeping compartment. I lie back down, rubbing my head. A sliver of light, coming from a tiny chink in the seal of my bed, glints off my bracelet and dances on the stainless-steel surface, highlighting the tally marks I put there. I trace them unhappily, pausing after every row. I started a new one each time one of my escape plans failed. There were four, so far.

When I woke up in my first room, almost two months ago, the first thing I saw was a nice, big window. Without a second's hesitation, the glass was broken and I was outside. I flapped my wings and flew to my freedom.

They say they found me just over a mile away, half frozen to death.

My new room was on the bottom floor, underground. There were no windows.

The next three escape attempts became increasingly more complex, involving air vents, key cards, and a small jet. The last time I tried to escape, I suffered a head injury from the plane crash. I was unconscious for a week. When I woke up, I had the bracelet.

I break my musings and begin studying the bracelet again. I've had it for three weeks, and I have its layout memorized: seamless metal, about an inch wide, concealing some sort of electronic stuff underneath. There's a probe on one side that shocks me when a whitecoat presses a button on a remote. On the other side under my wrist, there's a bunch of sensors that monitor my heart rate and stuff. It notifies the nearest whitecoat of any changes. I fish a bobby pin out from my hair- the only hiding spot I have-and attempt to wedge it underneath the metal. Nothing. Instead, I scratch another tally mark into the domed ceiling above me.

Seconds later, I hear a whirring. My bed glides out of its space in the wall slowly. A lady, the same one who had put the metal bracelet around my left wrist, waits for me. I squint in the sudden, harsh lighting of my room, studying her face. With a little makeup, she could bring out the gold in her eyes. As it is, though, she looks about the same as I feel.

"Glad to see you're already awake. I assume that means the medicine is working?" From her position, I can see straight up her nostrils. I frown, remembering why I woke up in the first place. "No. I had another bad night." The woman-her name tag reads 'Esther'-nods knowingly while scribbling furiously. "We are working on that. After tonight, if it still doesn't work, we will increase your medication." I rub sleep out of my eyes and nod while she continues, "But this is the last time." I grimace.

The pills taste like dog food dipped in bleach, so it didn't surprise anyone when I refused to take them at first. But when the nightmares didn't go away, and I began spending entire night tossing and turning in my bed dome, the medicine that was supposed to knock me out seemed like a blessing. The problem is, nobody understands how we Avian Americans operate. Apparently, they've been giving me "human" doses. For obvious reasons, this hasn't been working.

Esther glances at her watch on her way out. "Ten minutes until breakfast." She swipes her card, and steps out the whooshing door.

It is tempting to just roll over and fall back into oblivion, but my bed begins to slide back into its cocoon and I reluctantly sit up and stretch. The clock on the keypad lock reads 4:30. That means I've only had four hours of sleep. With a splash of cold water from the sink in the corner, I obliterate the last bit of sleep in my system. When I turn around, I discover that Esther has left my uniform hanging on a tiny hook next to the door. I scrunch up my nose. The Needle employees have to wear white coats. I have a nice, dingy/burnt/orange-colored shirt that doesn't fit and khaki pants that require at least another inch in length. If I had a choice, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing it. When I voiced my opinion on my second day at the Needle, one of my caretakers told me that I would either wear the uniform or go naked. Sighing, I pull on the itchy pants.

The door to my room whisks open as I straighten the sleeves on my totally _drab_ shirt. Esther strolls in, followed by two tranquilizer-toting guards. Esther, all smiles, asks, "Shall we?" Obediently, I fall in line between the guards.

From the inside, the Needle could easily pass as a normal office building. A clean, wide hallway runs the length of the building. On the way to the cafeteria, we pass twelve evenly-spaced doors, all industrial-grade metal. Not a window in sight. As we turn the corner to my breakfast, I notice a slight pinging coming from further up the hallway. Curious, I linger a bit too long before the turn, successfully tripping up my (admittedly kind of attractive) guard. He knocks my head, adding another knot to my collection of bruises. I don't mind, though, because of what I have just witnessed. Like magic, the walls further down the hall slid open to reveal steps. Real steps, with handrails and everything.

Okay, so that sounds lame, I know. But, trust me, this is _way_ exciting.

Breakfast begins the way it normally does: the guards and Esther stand by the door, and the silence is broken only by the occasional crunch of undissolved nutrient powder. The food isn't that bad, though. Years of living off roadkill or whatever could be scrounged up from the dumpster taught me to be happy for whatever I got. It probably also helps that I can choose my own dinners. I've already tried lobster, steak, homemade bread, and a chocolate fondue fountain with all the works (though the latter kept me up all night). My stomach rumbles.

As if on cue, my left wrist tingles. Just slightly, at first. Then it grows uncomfortable, like a hundred tiny needles prodding my skin.

I stop with my spoon halfway to my mouth. The pins and needles begin to work their way up my arm. All of a sudden, the electricity swells. I can't move. My heart speeds up. It feels like somebody took a jackhammer to my brain and released acid in my blood vessels. My very bones ache. Through the sound of my blood pounding, I hear the bracelet sizzling. Smoke rises.

As quickly as it started, it stops. I brace myself against the table, the world spinning around me and my ears ringing. My food attempts an evacuation from my stomach. I squelch down a moan of pain and take deep breaths until my ears stop ringing. A glance over my shoulder reveals one of the guards checking his watch. Esther fiddles with her ID. Totally oblivious.

The bracelet around my wrist? It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it is fried. Literally. From the inside out. It smokes pathetically, making a high-pitched whining noise I would compare to one of Angel's mental "but I want a tutu!" tantrums: undetectable to human ears but totally annoying, nonetheless.

Heads whip around when the fire alarm goes off, quickly followed by squeals (yes, from the guards, too) as they attempt to defend themselves against a barrage of sprinkler-rain. What little makeup Esther wears begins to run down her face. She should really invest in waterproof mascara. One of the guards grabs my arm and drags me out of my seat and out the door. Esther and the other guard follow closely behind, Esther clutching her clipboard to her chest like mothers hold their babies in horror films.

We head straight for the stairs I saw earlier. The wall slides open, and Esther bursts through first, throwing me into the side of the wall. The guard pushes me through just before the door slams shut.

I catch my balance on the handrail, suddenly aware of the lack of tranquilizer darts. No other guards pour in from any floors, if there are any. Suddenly the magnitude of my luck hits me. I could escape! I stop myself from getting my hopes up. No. The alarm had already turned off. It is just a matter of time before the door opens again and I am escorted back to my room. I shudder at the thought of what kind of punishment I could receive. I mean, _I_ know I'm not the one who fried my bracelet, but it's not like they're gonna believe the delinquent mutant.

Hammering ensues from behind the door. Esther slows her ascent, realizing now that the alarm is off and the door is stuck. She licks her lips nervously, staring up the steps at who-knows-what, and then rides the handrail down to the bottom. A keypad magically appears next to the door, but obviously doesn't work. Esther slides her key card once, twice, five times, frustrated, before pounding on the door herself.

I see my chance to earn forgiveness, and decide to try and help. The second I touch the door, though, the lights flicker. There's a moment of anticipation before they settle again. I let out a breathe I didn't realize I was holding and lean against the door with relief. Then the lights go out.

Remember what I said about being underground? Well, there ain't no sunshine down here. Or, apparently, emergency lights.

Esther's shriek sends chills up my spine. You would think she had just been shot or something. Unfortunately, I'm just as blind as she is; birdkid vision only works when there is a source of light. I cautiously slide to a sitting position on the floor. Esther's wailing stops, and the eerie silence is interrupted by a loud thump from a foot in front of me.

Now's my chance. I glance down at the bracelet around my wrist. If it's fried, the tracking device inside probably doesn't work, right? All I would have to do is rush up the steps, and when the power comes back on, I could run out of the building and. . . what? My forehead digs into my knees. What am I supposed to do next? WWMD? What would Max do?

I creep from my crouching position into a stand and cautiously scoot around the invisible barrier that is a knocked-out Esther. The first step almost trips me, but I manage to make it up two steps before I hear a moan behind me. I shut my eyes in the darkness, turn around, and creep back down in defeat. The rustling of a lab coat clues me in to where the fallen whitecoat lies. "Don't try to sit up." I say in the general vicinity of the thump I heard earlier.

"Oh. Yeah..." Esther drops off. "Did I faint?"

"Yep." I pop the 'p'. My foot hits the wall, and I lean against the wall. Then my feet slide out from under me-I wore the treads off my sneakers a long time ago-and I am unceremoniously dumped into a puddle. The splash echoes up the stairway.

Esther squeals. "Something touched me!" I move my feet a little, and she continues. "It moved again! I think there's a r-"

"Relax, it's just me." I can't help the disappointment getting through my voice. Not about the missing vermin, but my missed opportunity for freedom.

"You're still here?" I can hear her scooting towards the wall.

"Uh, yeah."

A pause. "Does that mean that you like it here?" The question catches me off guard. Since when does anybody care how I feel? Esther settles next to me while I consider my answer.

"Well, there are showers, and a bed with clean sheets every night, and the food. . . I remember a time when finding a half-eaten hamburger while scrounging through a dumpster was considered a feast. I lived off rats and squirrels and rabbits for years. And Max always overcooked them, so they were really dry, but Iggy could make it _just_ right. He used to send Gazzy and me out to find herbs or whatever, and this one time, we found this huge berry bush, and I didn't know what they were, but Gazzy said he thought they were gooseberries, and I was like 'There's no such thing as gooseberries,' and he was all 'Yes there are!' and he picked a handful and threw them in his mouth. So we picked a bunch, and brought them back to camp, and Max was all 'Don't eat those!' and then Gazzy threw up all over her. So Max and Angel went to change, and Iggy was taking care of Gazzy, and Fang was brooding, so nobody was watching the fire, and the squirrels burned to a crisp. Oh, and this other time-"

"_But_?"

"But? What?" I have to take a second to remember what we were talking about. "Oh, yeah, but. . ." I suddenly cut myself off. If I tell her why I want to leave, she could use that against me somehow. How do I know she's not recording this or something? "Can I trust you?" Esther replies with a yes a little too quickly. I cut her off. "No, _really _trust you. Like, would you be willing to risk your job and your life and your family and all of that for me?"

An awful pause. Esther gives a harsh laugh, and her hand closes around my right arm. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"Well, I guess neither of us are going to get our answers, are we?"

It takes almost an hour for workers to turn the lights on, and another to get the door opened. After the end of our conversation, Esther took to making sure I didn't try to run again. When the doors opened, they found me under the steps. The security guards escorted me back to my room.

Luckily, it was determined that a winter storm outside had knocked out the power and messed with the alarms, which means that nobody knows my bracelet doesn't work but me.

Despite these developments, my bed that night feels like it's made of rocks. After hours of staring at the ceiling and trying to decide whether or not to start a new row of tally marks, I fall into a fitful sleep.

I dream about overcooked squirrel and poisonous berries.


	3. Chapter 3

"Adding twenty pounds." Esther speaks into her shoulder, where a microphone records everything she says. It is hard to understand her over her own echo from nine stories below me. I brace myself. The dingy vest I wear over my tank top suddenly drops on my shoulders, as though something had just fallen on me. My feet slip with the sudden weight change, and I dangle by my fingertips from a few centimeters of rock ledge. There is no safety to catch me if I fall. They call it "encouragement."

Esther does not seem amused. "Remember your training." I grit my teeth as I breathe in, and hoist myself and the stupid ugly weight vest up on the exhale. My arms vibrate with the strain, but my toes finally find purchase, and I try to catch my breath.

"You know," I pant, "if you crazy scientists would just let me fly-"

"Continue the exercise." I huff, reaching for another handhold a few inches up. My goal is to reach the top of the ten-story rock wall. The vest I wear is controlled by a remote down below, and it can somehow manipulate gravity or something. Right now, it is set on two hundred forty pounds, if my math is right. I'll have bruises on my shoulders tomorrow.

I don't know what the buyers or the scientists have planned for me, but, for some reason, they find it necessary to keep me in shape. I train in the gym for most of the day, between lunch and supper. The workouts remind me of times at the E-shaped house when Max would wake up paranoid and make everybody exercise all day. But by the time lunch rolled around, the Flock would pretty much be worn out, and we'd stay inside for the next week without doing so much as a sit up. They were pretty much a bust, but for a long time, those excercises made us feel safe. Little did we know. . .

With a final heave, I swing my body over the top of the rock face. There's a large "cave" on top, and I collapse on the cool rock floor to rest and catch my breath. My entire body shakes with exertion.

Ringing rises from far below, echoing off the rock face. It stops abruptly, and I realize that Esther has answered her cell phone, something she almost never does while she's "training" me. Must be an important call. I try to listen to what she's saying, but from up this high, it is impossible to make out the jumbled, repeated words. Instead, anticipating a long wait, I carefully peel the vest off. The weight suddenly gone from my shoulders, I sigh. The vest makes a satisfying thud when I drop it.

I don't think I'm supposed to be able to take it off by myself. In fact, I'm pretty sure Esther would, like, keel over if she knew. But, for some reason, the little electric latch that is supposed to keep it secure responds to my touch as easily as it does the fancy key Esther keeps with her. Yesterday, while I was climbing and Esther was distracted, my hand brushed the latch, and the vest almost jumped off my skin. I got it back in place before I fell and even before Esther noticed. I guess it has to do with my new-fangled magnetism "power" or something. I don't know.

There are no cameras up here, because the exercise doesn't require me to be here long, and it's not like I could go anywhere but back down, anyways. Even though getting up here is as hard (and dangerous) as stealing cookies from Max's cookie jar, I look forward to it. I feel like I can breathe again.

The rock floor is as familiar a bed to me as any mattress. I rest my head against the walls of the cave and let my eyes slip shut. I can imagine that there are stars in the sky outside the mouth of the cave. A fire, right in the middle, spitting sparks, illuminating the faces of my Flock-mates.

I can hear Gazzy's mischievous laugh, smell Iggy's cooking, feel Total's fur under my fingertips. Angel's eyes sparkle as she tells us a story she heard during her time at elementary school. Max and Fang sit next to each other, their legs brushing.

After we eat, we stack fists and fall asleep.

". . . Eight billion? Do I hear eight billion. . ."

. . .

". . .This experiment has the ability to turn invisible. . ."

. . .

". . . I can assure you that with proper treatment, it will behave properly. . ."

. . .

The wall of television screens reflected an audience of eager buyers. Six of them would go home with a new, very expensive toy. I watched as my family was dragged out of the room, one by one, after being sold for a hefty amount of money. I attempted to hold back my tears. I had to be strong for Max. She would want me to be strong.

But Max was the first to go. She cost eleven billion. Then Fang. Then Iggy. All forced through the door by Gozen. Gone.

"Any questions before we continue?" My thoughts wandered while buyers asked about food, travel, and general behavioral problems. I shuffled a little closer to Angel, who clutched her broken arm. Gazzy, always the trooper, kept a stoic face, but I caught sight of a stray tear rolling down his cheek. He wiped it off on his shirtsleeve.

"Nudge." Angel's voice was just above a whisper. "I can hear them. They're still fighting. They're going to come get us."

I nodded, mentally preparing myself for a quick escape. Then something I heard the Uber-Director say caught my attention. I immediately tuned back into the conversation.

"Excellent question. The lifespan of these experiments is unknown. The company that created them made all of their products with expiration dates-"

"Are you saying that they will die soon?"

"Why should we be paying so much money?"

An uproar went over the television. Some people stomped off screen. The person who bought Iggy demanded a full refund. I wondered vaguely if that was what I sounded like to the rest of the Flock. The Uber-Director calmly took it, waiting for everyone to settle down before continuing.

"I have been working on an antidote." That shut them up real fast. "It is not yet complete, but the expiration of the most successful creatures is much later than that of the failed experiments. I assure you, there is ample time between now and when that time comes-" Iggy shot past the window. Angel, Gazzy, and I started to back away from it.

The Uber-Director, unaware of the danger, continued. "The antidote will be finished by then. And when it is finished-" The window exploded.

I startle awake. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dark in the pseudo-cave, and a few more for me to remember where I am.

Alone.

"Excellent!" Well, that's a level of enthusiasm I haven't heard from Esther in a while. Curious, I crawl to the lip of the cave and watch as she furiously scribbles on a fresh piece of paper. "Yes. . . Of course. . .Well, I don't know if. . .Yes, sir. My apologies. . . A week, then?. . .Okay. . . Sounds good. . .Yes, next week. Goodbye." I hastily put on my vest. I don't want anyone to know I can take it off by myself yet.

"Come down. Practice is canceled for the rest of day. Freshen up, and I will come talk to you in your quarters. You have two hours."

I've never climbed down the rock wall faster.


End file.
